The Little Gambler
by Jlbrew30
Summary: Ten year old Ezra P. Standish is sent to the town of Four Corners to stay with his father, Chris Larabee.
1. Arrival

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but I've been tweeking it here and there and finally decided to post it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 1: Arrival

The stage coach pulled into the small town of Four Corners, Texas in a cloud of dust.

This was not an unusual thing, as the stage usually arrived in town at least once a month, and it _always _had passengers.

This time it's passengers consisted of two well dressed men in "city-slicker" suits, two women, and a little boy.

The boy was about ten with large green eyes.

He was dressed so unlike the children of the town that had someone placed him next to one he would have stuck out like a broken thumb.

Dressed in a blue suit jacket, pants, vest, and spit shined shoes.

He was meticulously clean, and carried an old yet still usable carpet bag in his hand.

His blonde hair was combed perfectly, without a strand out of place, and as he gazed at his surroundings there was a definite look of distain on his face.

_**This**__ is where Mother has sent me?_He thought to himself as the stage driver handed him his small suit case.

"Thank you, sir," he told the gruff man politely, placing his most charming smile on his face. "I thoroughly enjoyed the ride."

_Yes_, he thought with just the touch of a sneer, _I certainly just LOVED the bumping of the carriage, the bickering of the other passengers, and the loud belching of the drivers…_

While he would have liked to express these sentiments out loud, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman and gentlemen were always polite...even if that meant lying.

Ezra P. Standish had no difficulty in telling a lie when it was absolutely necessary.

The stage driver just grunted and turned away. Ezra sighed.

He still could not believe his mother had done this to him...although he really shouldn't be surprised.

His mother, Maude, had been leaving him with perfect strangers all his life as she attempted to con various [wealthy] gentlemen out of their fortunes.

This time, however, she had been caught and had to flee the country.

_So while she is in Paris or who knows where, _he thought bitterly_. __**I**__ am forced to come here to this uncivilized town in the middle of nowhere!_

Ezra sighed again. Turning, he started down the town's main (and only) street.

Passing shops, he found what he was looking for in the form of a star shaped sign bearing the name "Sheriff" on it.

All his life his mother had told him to remain clear of lawmen, and yet she had sent him to live with one Chris Larabee—the sheriff of this backwater town!

_The man is probably some fat jail keeper,_ Ezra thought to himself._Who does nothing but sits around all day long…_

Taking a deep breath, Ezra placed a self-confident expression on his face, raised himself to all of his four foot and four inch height, and stepped inside what constituted the local law office for Four Corners.

Inside, he found a tall man with a mustache. He sat behind the desk with his feet propped up, and his brown cowboy hat over his eyes.

_At least he's not fat, _he thought to himself with a sigh. Clearing his throat, he didn't get any reaction from the man.

He stepped closer and cleared it a little louder. The man lifted his hat, stared at him with one eye, and then grinned.

"Well now," he said, sitting up. "Hello there. Something I can do for yaw?"

"Um, yes," Ezra said, nervously. "I am looking for Sheriff Chris Larabee. Would you be him by any chance, Sir?"

The man smiled, but shook his head.

"Sorry, son," the man said, good-naturally. "I'm Buck, one of ole Chris' deputies. Chris is over at the saloon havin' lunch right now."

"Oh," Ezra said, simply. "Could you perhaps point me to this establishment, then?"

Buck smiled broadly. He'd never heard a kid talk quite like this one.

"I'll do yaw one better," he said, standing up. "I'll take yaw over there. Yaw got a name to go with them fine manners of yours?"

"Of course," Ezra said, following him out of the jail.

Buck waited, and when he didn't say anything further, asked, "Well?"

Ezra blinked at him. "Well what, Sir?" he asked, puzzled.

"What's yer name, boy?" Buck persisted, a tad bit frustrated.

"Oh," Ezra said, realizing he had not formally introduced himself. "I am Ezra Percival Standish, Deputy."

Buck whistled. "That's quite a name, young'un," he commented as they stopped in front of the local saloon.

"I suppose so, Sir," Ezra said, "but it is the only name my mother bestowed upon me at birth so suppose I must live with it.

"Yeah, I reckon so," Buck said, smirking. "C'mon, ole Chris is over yonder…"

He pointed to a back table where a group of two men and a young boy sat eating.

"Howdy, fellers," Buck greeted, gaining the three men's attention. "Got a young'un here who'd like to talk to yaw, Chris…"

Chris Larabee was a tall man, blonde haired, and dressed all in black. He glanced at Ezra with an intense expression.

Ezra gulped, somewhat intimidated.

_So_, the boy couldn't help but think. _This is my father…_

TBC


	2. Seeing Red

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 2: Seeing Red

Sheriff Chris Larabee looked the boy Buck had brought in up and down.

Like Buck, he'd never quite seen a kid like him before.

Most of the kids he knew in town, especially the boys, hated getting "gussied" up and they _certainly _didn't like taking baths.

This kid looked like he bathed two or three times a day…

Plus, he was wearing a full three piece suit complete with spit shined shoes and a dark blue tie.

The only thing remotely "used" looking was the carpet bag he carried in his left hand and the suitcase he carried in his right.

"Something I can do for you, son?" he asked the kid, tilting his black hat back a little bit.

There was something familiar looking about this boy, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was...

"Are you Chris Larabee, Sir?" the kid asked him, his voice distinctly Southern.

"That's be me," Chris told him, gazing down seriously. "Somethin' I can help yaw with?"

The boy reached into his jacket pocket and produced an envelope of some kind.

"Here is a letter from my mother," the boy told him. "It explains everything, I believe."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together, but he took the letter. On the front of the envelope was written the name "Christopher Larabee".

Chris frowned. Nobody had ever called him 'Christopher' except his ma when he was a boy and had gotten in trouble…

Tearing it open, he pulled out the letter and began to read:

_Dearest Christopher,_

_I hope this letter finds you in excellent health. I am quite sure you are very surprised to be hearing from me, as I believe it has been a decade since we last saw or spoke to each other._

_I am also quite sure that you are puzzled by the appearance of the young boy who has handed you this letter. His name is Ezra, Ezra Percival Standish._

_You see I must, for reasons I do not wish to explain, leave the country for a time and cannot take Ezra with me. _

_While there are plenty of people that I could send him to, I chose you. Why? Well, the simple enough reason for that is that he is your son. Yes, Christopher, I said __**your**__ son. _

_I did not discover I was with child until several months after you and I parted ways, I am afraid. By then you were on your way West to start a ranch and I...well, I had moved on also. _

_Never the less he __**is **__your __son, and I need you to care for him until my return. You have my undying gratitude, Christopher._

_Sincerely,_

_Maude Elizabeth Standish  
><em>  
>Chris read the letter three times, his eyes widening and his anger rising each time.<p>

Maude Standish sent her son to him! A son that was supposed to be HIS!

That…that…that _bitch_!

He had not seen or heard from Maude Standish in well over ten years time.

She had been this girl he had met before coming West to start his ranch.

She had always had lofty dreams of marrying rich and a poor rancher would never have done.

Sure, she had been fun to be with and they had..._well_...but if the boy _was _his son why had she waited all this time to tell him?

He gazed at the boy in front of him, seeing his green eyes that reminded him of Maude—who had the same color eyes, he remembered—which only made him angrier.

By now, he was seeing red and he knew he needed to get up and leave before he did something he'd regret.

The boy didn't deserve his wrath, after all.

He hadn't asked to be born...and he probably hadn't asked to be dumped on a perfect stranger, either.

Getting up, he tossed the crumpled letter away and left.

"Um," he heard Buck say, obviously speaking to the boy. "You hang tight, Ezra. Sit down right there and have some grub. This here is Vin, Chris' other deputy, and the runt there is JD Dunne."

"Hey," he heard ten year old JD protest. "I ain't a runt, Buck!"

"Sure, sure," Buck replied, ruffling the boy's hair. "Whatever you say, young'un. I'll be right back."

He found him [Chris] beating his fist against the side of the saloon.

"What's goin' on, Chris?" Buck asked him. "Who is that kid? Why's he lookin' for you? And what the _hell_are you so fired up about it?"

Chris stopped punching the wall and looked at his friend.

He and Buck Wilmington had been best friends since they were boys.

They had traveled together out here, he to start a ranch and Buck to..._well_, to look for women…and they had shared a lot since then.

Including the grief of losing his family…

The memory of his beloved wife and son, who had died in a fire three years before, sent a black wave of grief through him that it almost stopped the red visage he was seeing.

Almost, but not quite…

He sighed. "You remember Maude Standish?" he asked Buck, curiously.

Buck thought a moment. He'd known quite a number of women in his life, and there had been more than a couple of Maudes...

"Wasn't she the gal you took up with 'bout ten years ago?" he asked, trying to remember. "The Southern gal in St. Louis who put on airs and such?"

Chris nodded. "Yep," he said, smirking. "That's her, all right. That kid in there is hers…and she says he's _mine_, too!"

Buck let out a whistle. "Hell's Bells, Chris," he swore, shaking his head. "What are you gonna do?"

"What I'd like to do is send the kid packing," Chris growled out, hitting the wall again.

"C'mon, Chris…" Buck, who had a very soft heart towards women, children, and animals, told him. "He's just a young'un…"

"I know that," Chris told him, "and besides I ain't about to send a kid who might be mine somewhere 'less I know where he's goin' and that he'll get there safe."

"Can't you send him back to his ma?" Buck asked, curiously. "Why'd she send him out here in the first place? I mean, if she went ten years without tellin' yaw…"

Chris grinned. He and Buck tended to think a lot a like at times…

"She said she had to leave the country 'for reasons she didn't want to explain'," he told him, sneering. "And knowin' her it was because she tried to con some wealthy city-slicker and got caught.

Buck nodded. "She _was_ good a connin' faults," he said, remembering.

Chris snorted. "You have no idea," he muttered, sourly. He hit the wall again. Damn, that hurt!

"So," Buck said, scratching his chin. "Do ya think it's true, though? 'Bout the boy being yers?"

"He'd be the right age, if he is," Chris said, sighing and shrugging. "His ma and I did...you know...so I guess it could be true. It's just..AHHH!" He hit the wall again, this time with his other fist.

"I know, 'Pard," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "Believe me, I know…"

The wounds from his wife and son's deaths were still very open and still very raw for the former gun slinger-turned-lawman.

The fact that he could have had a still livin' and breathin' child walkin' around out in the wide world would have stuck in any man's craw...especially his.

"So," he said, hesitantly. "You reckon we should put him up at the boardin' house 'til you decide what to do with him?"

Chris nodded.

"That would be best," he said. "We'll need to keep a close eye on him. If he's anything like Maude, he's gonna be a handful."

Buck grinned, patting him on the back.

"Don't worry," he said, smirking. "Me, Vin, Josiah, and Nathan got yer back. I mean, if we can handle JD we sure as hell can handle this little feller, right?"

Chris nodded, but then sighed.

"I'd had best go talk to the boy," he said, fixing his hat back into place on his head.

Buck nodded, and followed him back into the saloon.

This sure was going to be interesting, to say the least.

TBC


	3. First Impressions

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 3: First Impressions

Ezra sat at the table where the deputy had left him, facing the two others who stared back at him.

The one the mustached deputy had referred to as 'Vin' was tanned with long hair.

He had the intense stare of a hawk, and there was almost a dangerous quality about him under the surface.

The little gambler was certain he'd have to watch this one.

The other person at the table was much easier to read.

He appeared to be the same age as him, though certainly no where near as refined.

There might even be a potential ally, should the need arise for him to have one…

"Well," the other kid said, "I reckon we should introduce ourselves. I'm JD Dunne."

Ezra nodded. "A pleasure to meet you, Master Dunne," he replied politely.

"Vin Tanner," the hawk-faced man said, staring at him intensely.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir," Ezra responded. "I am Ezra P. Standish."

"Would'cha like something to eat?" J.D. spoke up, curiously. "Inez makes a mean stew!"

"No," Ezra replied, uncomfortably. "Thank you, though."

"You kin to Chris, by any chance?" Vin asked, raising an eyebrow. "He seemed awfully upset…"

"Oh, Vin," JD said, snickering. "Yaw know Chris has got a stick up his—"

"Up my what?" Chris growled, causing him to jump.

Ezra found himself slightly startled, as well.

Vin merely smirked at JD…wondering how the young'un was going to get outta this one?

"Uh, I, that is…" the ten year old stammered, suddenly nervous for some reason. "I mean..._well_…I—"

"I'd close my mouth while I was ahead, John Daniel," Buck told the kid, giving him a pointed look.

"Yes, sir," JD said, and closed his mouth. "Sorry, Chris…"

Ezra stared at the tall sheriff in black.

This man was his father, and yet he was a stranger to him.

_Mother always told me first impressions were important, _he thought to himself._ I suppose she was correct._

He wondered what sort of impression he had already made on this man.

Chris looked at the boy, who stared back at him with those wide green eyes of his. He knelt down, so that he was looking the kid in the eye.

"So," he said, somewhat nervously. "It's Ezra, right?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said, calmly.

"You're ma's Maude Standish," Chris said, making a statement not question.

Again, Ezra nodded. "Yes, Sir," he answered, wondering where this line of questioning was going.

Chris nodded, standing back up. "C'mon," he said, simply. "Let's go get you a place to sleep."

Ezra stood up, grabbed his two bags, and followed him out of the saloon.

"Where are we going, Sir?" he asked, curious.

"Me, Buck, Vin, J.D. and one other all stay at the boardin' house," Chris explained. "Until we figure out what to do with yaw, ya'll stay there with me."

"Oh," Ezra said, wrinkling his nose a little bit. "Is there not a hotel I could stay at, instead?"

Chris chuckled. "'Fraid not, son," he told him, smirking. "Four Corners ain't exactly what yer used to, is it?"

Ezra sighed. "No, Sir," he answered, honestly, "I am afraid it is not…"

"Where did your ma go?" Chris asked him, stopping a moment.

"She did not deem it necessary to disclose that information, Sir," Ezra replied. "She simply said that she was going abroad and decided to send me here."

"Why?" Chris asked. "I ain't seen or spoke to her in ten years. Why'd she send you here? For that matter, how'd she even know where I was?"

Ezra sighed, shaking his head. "I do not know, Sir," he told the man, truthfully. "I am not in the habit of questioning Maude's plans."

Chris raised an eyebrow at the use of the woman's first name, but didn't say anything about it.

They continued moving and arrived at the boarding house. Chris led him up to his room, and escorted the boy inside.

Ezra gazed around the room, his nose wrinkling in obvious distain.

Chris sighed and then sat down on the bed.

"Look, son," he told him, "I'm gonna be honest with yaw. I ain't exactly prepared to be a pa again, and to be honest I can't just accept that yer mine after yer ma has waited this long to tell me about yaw, but I intend to look after yaw until we can figure everything out. All right?"

"Oh," Ezra said, his green eyes showing nothing. "I see…" He shouldn't have been surprised by this turn of events.

After all, if a strange child he'd never met suddenly appeared with a letter from a woman he hadn't seen in a decade telling him that the boy in front of him was his son he'd be skeptical, too.

Still, apart of him had hoped to be received a little better than this.

"So," Chris said, standing back up. "Why don't you unpack yer things and then we'll go meet the others?"

"Others?" Ezra asked, puzzled.

"Yaw've met Buck, Vin, and JD," Chris told him, "but there's a couple of others yaw need to meet, too."

"Very well, Mr. Larabee," Ezra replied, quietly.

Chris sighed. "You can call me "Chris", Ezra," he told him, patting the boy on the shouler. "We'll work it out. I promise."

He then left to give the boy some privacy while he packed.

Ezra nodded. He was suddenly very impressed by the man in black.

_Too bad he can't say the same about me, _he thought a little bitterly_._

He sighed, and then started to unpack.

TBC


	4. Adjusting

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 4: Adjustin'

Chris looked in on the boy after about ten minutes.

"Everything all right?" he asked, finding Ezra simply standing in the middle of the room.

The boy nodded. "Yes, Sir," he replied. "I am afraid I am not used to such accommodations, though."

Chris grinned at that. _He talks as if he's sixty 'stead of ten…_

"I reckon there's a lot about Four Corners yaw ain't gonna be used to," he told him, "but seein' as how yer gonna be here for a while I reckon yer just gonna have to grin and bear it."

Ezra nodded. "It wouldn't be the first time," he replied, quietly.

"What'cha mean?" Chris asked him, curiously.

"This is hardly the first time Maude has sent me somewhere," the boy told him, snorting.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked, crossing his arms. He didn't much like the tone in the boy's voice at that moment.

"She only ever sends for me when it's convenient for _her_," the boy replied, sneeringly. "When having me around is to her advantage."

_Yep, _Chris thought to himself_. That sounds about like the Maude Standish I knew…  
><em>

"I reckon she must have her reasons," he told the kid, reassuringly.

Ezra snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Her reasons are simple, Sir," he told him, matter-of-factly. "She seeks wealth and uses any means to obtain it. Whether it's using me...or her _body_…or both!"

The last came out as a sneer.

"Now hold it right there a moment," Chris said, firmly. "I ain't sayin' yer ma is a saint, but she's still _your _ma. I ain't gonna have yaw sayin' nothin' 'bout her like that."

Ezra sighed, nodding. "You are right, Mr. Larabee," he said, apologetically. "A gentleman keeps his opinions to himself. I apologize."

"All right, then," Chris told the kid, patting him on the shoulder. "How about we go 'round to meet up with the fellas?"

"All right," Ezra replied, seeing no other recourse at this time.

Chris put a hand around his shoulder and together they headed back down to the saloon where two more men had joined Buck, Vin, and JD.

"Ezra," he said, pointing at the older man in the group. "This here is Josiah Sanchez. He's the town's preacher…more or less."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Little Brother," Josiah said, smiling at the boy.

"Likewise," Ezra responded, titling his head as he had been taught to do by his mother.

"And this is Nathan Jackson," Chris said, nodding his head to the only black man in the group. "He's the town's doctor…more or less."

"Howdy," Nathan told him. "You from the South?" He thought he had heard a distinct accent when the kid had spoken.

"Orginially," Ezra replied, politely.

"Me, too," Nathan told him. He decided to leave off the part that he'd been a slave at that time.

"So," Buck said, after taking a sip of his beer. "You get settled, Ez?"

It took Ezra a moment to realize the mustached deputy was referring to him, and while he wrinkled his nose slightly at the nickname he did nod.

"Yes, Mr. Wilmington," he told him. "I did, thank you."

"Ah, shucks," Buck said, smiling. "You can jus' call me 'Buck', kid. Mr. Wilmington makes me sound so old!"

"That's cuz yaw are so old, Buck" JD told him, grinning.

Buck scowled at the ten year old. "You want to be muckin' out the stables fer a month, boy?" he asked him, darkly.

JD's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. "No," he replied, gulping.

"Then hush up," Buck told him, grinning. "Ain't yaw ever heard kids are supposed to be seen and not heard?"

"I ain't a kid," J.D. grumbled, sourly.

"Yeah," Vin said, rolling his eyes. "So yaw keep sayin', but so far non of us is believin' yaw."

The others all laughed when the ten year old picked up a peace of corn bread and threw it at the long haired young man.

Vin caught it in mid-air and took a bite. "Mighty fine 'bread," he replied, after he'd wallowed. "I'll have ta give Miss Inez a kiss next time I see her."

"I thought that was Brother Buck's mission, Brother Vin," Josiah replied, teasing. "He is, after all, 'the ladies' man'."

"Damn straight, Preacher," Buck said, smiling. "And mighty proud of it, too!"

Chris leaned down and whispered in Ezra's ear.

"Don't pay 'em no mind, son," he told him. "They're pains in the ass sometimes, but they ain't no finer friends a fella could have. You'll see?"

Ezra nodded, though he didn't say anything.

He had never had any real friends before, but he wondered if someone could truly trust a person or persons that much?

_Not according to Maude, any way, _he thought to himself._  
><em>  
>"You all right?" Chris whispered, taking a seat at the table. "You thirsty?"<p>

"Yes, sir," Ezra replied, sitting down beside him. "Thank you."

"What'll it be?" Chris asked, grinning.

"I will have gingerale, please," Ezra replied. "With just a touch of whisky mixed into it."

"I was thinkin' more along the lines of either milk or lemonade," Chris said, his eyebrows shooting clear to his forehead.

Ezra wrinkled his nose, but sighed. "Lemonade will do, then," he replied, though the tone in his voice said quite clearly what he thought of it.

Chris sighed, inwardly.

_The boy is definitely got some adjustin' to do, _he couldn't help think as he went to get their drinks.

He just hoped it was a smooth adjustment period…

TBC


	5. Rules

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 5: Rules

"Sheriff!" a panicked male voice called out, racing for the town jail.

Chris stood up from his desk as the youth raced inside. He and the others had come over after finishing their supper.

"Whoe there," he said, grabbing ahold of the kid's shoulders to steady him. "Easy does it!"

He recognized him as one of the younger hands on one of the nearby ranches.

"You and yer deputies gotta come quick, Sheriff," the boy, who was all of fifteen, exclaimed.

"Ease up there, son," Chris told him, "and catch your breath. What's the trouble?"

"A group of thievin' bandits a little bit ago," the boy told him. "Shot the place all to Hell and left Mr. Black fer dead. Took off with his girl, too. The Doc and Preacher better come along, some of the hands are real bad off."

"All right, lad," Chris said, holding up his hands. "We'll ride back with you. Buck, take him and go get the horses while Vin rounds up Nate and Josiah. I'll get the rifles and meet'cha at the stable."

"What about me?" JD asked, standing up from where he'd been sitting at Buck's desk. "I can help!"

"Yer keepin' yer butt planted right where it is," Buck told him, firmly. He pushed him back down in his seat.

"But Buck—" the ten year old started to complain.

"No buts, John Daniel," Buck told him, firmly. "Yaw stay put, or yer gonna get one hell of a tail blisterin' when I get a hold of yaw! Got me?"

JD's eyes widened at that and he nodded. "Yeah," he grumbled, sourly. "I got it…"

Buck nodded, and then he and Vin ushered the kid out of the jail.

Chris looked at Ezra, who was leaning against the side one of the cells.

"You stay here with JD," he told him, firmly. "We'll be back in a little while."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," the ten year old suggested, wryly.

Chris grinned at that. _I gotta get him to talkin' like a normal kid, _he thought to himself.

He shook his head. "Don't think so," he told him, and then looked sternly at him. "Stay put."

With that, he turned and gathered up three rifles (Nathan and Josiah never touched guns unless they had to—which was rare) and bullets for them.

He then headed out to join his men.

Ezra sighed. "It seems we are not needed, Master Dunne," he replied, sitting down in the seat the sheriff had just vacated.

"Dang it," JD swore, slapping his hand down on Buck's desk. "They get to go have all the fun while I'm stuck here!"

"Perhaps," Ezra replied, smirking, "if we were to follow them we will be able to assist them in their endeavor?"

"Are you kiddin' me?" JD asked, horrified. "Chris and Buck would tan our hides! Least, they'd have _mine _for sure!"

Ezra frowned. "Is Deputy Wilmington your sire, then?" he asked, confused.

"My what?" JD asked, confused.

Ezra resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Is he your father?" he asked again.

"Who, _Buck_?" JD scoffed, snorting. "Nah, he just thinks he _is_."

"I do not understand," Ezra said, frowning.

"My ma died 'bout six months ago," JD explained. "That's when I decided ta come out here. I met up with the fellas when they was helpin' out some Indians with a Rebel problem they was havin'… They didn't want me along, but I kinda followed 'em and they had no choice. Buck sorta 'dopted me, yaw might say…"

"Oh," Ezra replied. "He seems very..._protective_...of you."

"Don't I know it," JD replied, sourly. "They all treat me like a kid, but Buck's the worst!"

"Well," Ezra said, "since we must wait…why do we not find something to keep our minds and hands occupied?"

"Like what?" JD asked, curiously.

"Do they perchance play cards of an evening over at the saloon?" the little Southerner asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If you mean do they play poker," JD told him, "then yeah they do."

Ezra's smile widened. "Excellent," he replied, and then pulled out a desk of cards from his pocket.

_This should prove a most __**profitable **__evening, _he thought to himself as he strolled from the jail headed for the saloon. _A most profitable evening, indeed…_

A few hours later, it was a very tired and weary group that rode back into town.

Chris, Buck, and Vin managed to catch up with the group of bandits.

After a shoot out that left them all dead, they brought the daughter of the rancher home.

Nathan and Josiah had tended to the wounded and the dead, and both were as exhausted as the lawmen.

Riding up at the jail, they dismounted. "Ho, JD," Buck called out. "We're back, boy!" There was no answer from within, so Vin headed inside.

"He's not here," he told them, coming back out a second later.

Buck scowled. "I told him to stay put," he said, a note of frustration in his voice. "When I get my hands on that little cuss…"

"What I want to know is if he took Ezra with him," Chris growled, just as annoyed.

"There seems to be something happening at the saloon, Brothers," Josiah, who was still mounted, said.

He pointed to where a large crowd had gathered outside of the saloon peering in.

"You think the young'uns could be there?" Nathan asked, curiously.

"They'd better not be," Chris and Buck growled at the same time, and then stalked off in the direction of the saloon.

Despite its calm atmosphere, the saloon could get very rowdy at night and it was no place for boys...

They waded through the crowd to get to the door. "What's happenin'?" Buck asked the nearest man. "What's all the fuss about?"

"It's this kid," he replied, pointing. "Can't be more than nine or ten and he's beatin' the pants off of everybody in poker!"

Chris' scowl deepened upon hearing this. He followed the man's finger toward the middle table in the saloon.

There, sitting as calmly as could be was one Ezra P. Standish.

Surrounding him was four of the meanest looking cowboys Chris ever laid eyes on, and they were all sweating bullets.

JD stood just behind Ezra, a large grin on his face.

"Well, gentlemen?" the ten year old card shark replied, smirking.

Two of the men folded, and then the other two showed their hands. One had three kings, the other had a pair of deuces.

"Oh, dear," Ezra replied, wolfishly. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but I am afraid I win…_again_."

He showed his hand, which turned out to be a royal flush…in diamonds no less!

All four men swore, but none argued. They simply shoved all their money at the boy and got up.

"What's going on here?" Chris growled, crossing his arms.

JD stiffened and he turned to find two very angry law men regarding him and his new friend.

Ezra also turned and smiled. "Ah, you are back," he said, grinning. "Did you manage to catch the desperados?"

"We caught 'em," Chris told him, raising an eyebrow, "but that didn't answer my question?"

"We were simply passing the time until your return, Mr. Larabee," the boy told him, smiling brightly. "I am a fair hand at many games of chance, you see, and I could hardly deny these fine gentlemen who were so very eager to play…"

"And lose, by the looks of it," Chris replied, nodding his head at the rather large pile of cash sitting to the boy's right.

Ezra shrugged. "They simply lacked the skills necessary to win," he told him, smugly. "Would you like to play, Sir?"

"Not against you I wouldn't," Chris told him, snorting. "Grab yer cash and let's go. We need to have a talk."

"You, too," Buck said, latching onto JD by the arm. "I thought I told yaw ta stay put! What if someone had come into the jail?"

"It ain't like anybody was gonna steal it, Buck," the dark haired boy replied, flippantly, as he was dragged toward the exit.

"Lose the smart mouth," Buck warned him, sternly.

"Ah, Buck, c'mon!" JD protested, but his moans went unnoticed.

Chris and Ezra followed them out.

"Ezra," Chris replied, firmly, "you go on up to our room. I'll be up in a minute. I'm gonna see about our horses."

"All right, Sir," Ezra replied, wondering why the man seemed angry with him.

Chris sighed, shaking his head. _I sure am beat, _he thought to himself wearily._  
><em>  
>"Go on, Brother Chris," Josiah informed him once he reached the horses again. "Brother Vin and I will tend the mounts."<p>

Chris nodded. "Thanks, fellas," he replied, and then headed for the boardin' house.

On his way up, he stopped by Buck's door. Inside he heard the distinct sound of flesh smacking flesh, followed by a distinct whimper.

He sighed. _Sounds like someone's gettin' his smart-mouthed behind whooped, _he thought to himself.

Shaking his head, he reminded himself he had a boy of his own to deal with and headed on up.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite know what to do with Ezra.

He hadn't told the boy he couldn't gamble, but of course he hadn't really expected it.

Of course, seein' as how the boy's ma was a con artist it wasn't all that surprising that the boy would be a miniature card shark.

_I reckon I'm gonna have ta set some rules, _he thought as he stopped outside his door_, so he and I both know what to expect.  
><em>  
>It seemed so strange a thought to him, as with Adam the rules hadn't ever really needed to be spoken out loud.<p>

His boy had known what he could and couldn't do.

He also knew exactly what his pa would do to him if he did do something he wasn't supposed to.

Ezra, however, didn't know what to expect and that was what they needed to get cleared up right now.

Entering his room, he found the boy placing the money he won into that old carpet bag of his._  
><em>  
>He cleared his throat to get his attention.<p>

"We need ta talk, Ezra," he told the boy, coming over and sitting down on the bed.

"What about, Mr. Larabee?" the boy asked, coming over and sitting also.

"Well, for starters," Chris told him, hesitantly. "We need some rules."

"Rules, Sir?" Ezra asked, wrinkling his nose.

His mother hadn't been very big on rules and by her very nature went out of her way to break them.

He had learned this also, so he and rules didn't go well together…

"Yeah," Chris replied, "I know you've only been here a few hours, but I think we gotta get some things cleared up so we both know where we stand."

Ezra nodded. That sounded reasonable. "All right, Sir," he said, looking very serious for a ten year old.

Chris nodded. "Well, for starters," he said, "what happened just now in the saloon…I don't want you gamblin' in there anymore. The saloon's no place for a kid after dark."

Ezra sighed. "I was in no danger, Mr. Larabee," he replied. "I've been in places such as that before with my mother."

"Maybe so, but I still don't want you in there after dark," Chris told him, firmly. "Especially since I wasn't there to watch out for yaw."

Ezra nodded, not saying anything else. If the man didn't want him gambling in the saloon, he wouldn't.

He'd just have to find somewhere else to do it, that was all.

"Also," Chris continued, "I'm not too sure how much schoolin' you've had, but Josiah is sorta the teacher here and so yer gonna be goin' there with the rest of the kids startin' tomorrow."

Ezra didn't have a problem with this either, as he liked learning new things. "Of course, Sir," he said, smiling.

_Okay_, Chris thought to himself, s_o far so good…_

"One more thing," Chris told him, "and that's there are gonna be some chores you'll need to do."

"Chores?" Ezra asked, wrinkling his nose in distain.

Chris smiled. All kids hated chores, but he had a feeling this one hated 'em even more.

"Yeah," he told him, firmly. "Nothing heavy, just maybe helpin' JD in the stables and maybe cleanin' this here room for us. We'll figure 'em out as we go, I reckon…"

Ezra sighed, but nodded. That sounded a lot like menial labor to him, and if there was one thing Ezra P. Standish disliked above anything else it was menial labor.

"So, that's pretty much it for now," Chris told him, standing up. "Why don't you and I go hit the bath house? I could use a good hot bath and then let's hit the hay. I'm plum tuckered out."

Ezra, who enjoyed bathing regularly, nodded.

"I'll get my things, sir," he told him and then went to get his bathing things from the chest of drawers where he had put them earlier.

Chris watched him a moment, thinking. _He's definitely gonna be quite the handful…  
><em>  
>TBC<p> 


	6. School

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 6: School

The next morning, Ezra noticed that JD seemed to be squirming a great deal in his chair.

"Is everything all right, Master Dunne?" he asked the other boy, curiously.

JD blushed. "Um, yeah," he muttered, finding his plate of bacon and eggs somewhat fascinating all of a sudden.

"Don't pay him no mind, Ezra," Buck said, grinning. "He's just a mite sore this mornin'…"

JD blushed even more, and glared at the mustached deputy. "Yaw don't have to rub it in, Buck," he grumbled at the man, sourly.

Buck shrugged. "Looked to me you were the one doin' the rubbin' last night," he told him, and then got up. JD glowered at him, sullenly.

"Jus' remember," Buck told him, firmly. "Yaw best be at the stables when I come by after school today..."

JD nodded. "I know, I know," he said, sighing. "I'll be there—I don't like it—but I will."

"Good," Buck replied. "I'll be ridin' out to Nettie's place now, Chris."

Ezra glanced at the black clad lawman, who had been very quiet this morning.

After their talk the night before, they had both slept well despite the fact neither was used to sharing a bed with anyone.

"Sure thing, Buck," Chris said, nodding. "Vin and I'll be out there later on to help with the mendin'. First thing, though, we gotta go see about those stolen cattle from Granger's ranch."

Buck nodded. "Got'cha," he said, putting on his hat. "See ya'll later!" With that, the mustached man departed.

"As soon as you finish eatin', Ezra," Chris told him, "you two boys best head on over to the church. JD can show yaw the way…"

Ezra nodded. "Very well, Sir," he said, quietly.

Chris nodded, standing up. "Good," he said, smiling. "I'll catch you kids later. C'mon, Vin, let's hit the saddle."

Vin nodded, drained the last of his coffee, and then got up to follow him out of the saloon.

JD glared after them. "Yaw'd think we was babies or something'," he muttered, sourly. "First Buck gets all high-handed last night and now this!"

Ezra looked at JD. "What did he mean?" he asked, curiously.

The other boy blushed again. "It's nothin'," he mumbled, again finding his eggs interesting.

"I may not be quite as familiar with them as you are, Master Dunne," Ezra told him, "but I am _not _stupid. You have been unable to sit still all morning, and Mr. Wilmington seemed far from pleased with you."

JD sighed. He reckond he'd best come clean.

"Last night," he told him, "Buck was ballin' me out 'bout not stayin' at the jail like he told me to. I got mad and kinda...well...started yellin' and cussin' at him a little."

Ezra's eyes widened. "I take he was not pleased with you," he stated, bluntly.

JD snorted. "Told me since I wanted to act like a brat he'd treat me like one," he told him. "He...um...he gave me a whoppin'."

Ezra's eyes widened. "He hit you!" he exclaimed, shocked.

"Well...no, not really," JD said, blushing. "I mean, he did but it wasn't like _that_. He turned me cross his knee and whooped my ass, s'all. It hurt, but I reckon I'll live."

"Oh," Ezra replied, still surprised. "You allow him to do this, then?"

Now it was JD's turn to look surprised.

"You kiddin' me, right?" he asked, laughing. "Buck's ten times bigger than me, and if I tried to make a run for it I'd have gotten my britches pulled down and whooped harder."

Ezra blanched at that, but JD didn't notice.

'Sides," the other boy told him. "I know I did it to myself. I shouldn't have acted like a brat. I didn't do what I was told, so he had the right to ball me out. I just lost my temper and didn't think things through. I, uh, I do that sometimes…"

"You truly do not mind being treated this way?" Ezra asked, as the two of them got up and headed out of the saloon headed for the church.

JD shrugged.

"I reckon I don't really mind that much," he admitted. "I mean, it was just me and my ma back home. And I kinda like Buck actin' like my pa sometimes. He's teachin' me a lot of stuff and he's fun to be with. He takes me fishin' and huntin' and stuff like that. Yaw just don't want to get his goat, that's all."

Ezra was a bit puzzled at this. "All right," he said, as if he _did _understand. "Why do you have to go to the stables after school?"

JD sighed. "I gotta spend the next two weeks muckin' it out for not doin' as I was told," he complained. "I reckon I got off easy enough. He coulda made it a whole _month_!"

Ezra nodded. "I suppose we should tarry along," he said, "lest Father Sanchez sends someone to retrieve us."

"Oh, Jo's not a 'Father'," J.D. told him, smirking. "Heck, he ain't even really a preacher no more…but he's the closest thing the town's got."

"Yes, well," Ezra said, quietly. "Shall we go?"

JD nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, "let's go."

Ezra nodded and together they headed towards the church.

As they walked, he began to replay the conversation he had just had with JD over again in his mind.

_It's so different here, _he thought to himself_  
><em>  
>The boys he was used to associating with would never had allowed themselves be humiliated by a spanking, and Ezra himself had never been given one in his entire life.<p>

Maude had felt physical punishment was completely unnecessary—as she could flay the hide off of someone with just her razor sharp tongue.

Would Mr. Larabee do that to him if he thought it was warranted?

That thought troubled him.

The man had given him rules to follow the night before, but what would happen if he were to break one of those rules?

He didn't really think he wanted to find out._  
><em>  
>"Good morning, little brothers," Josiah greeted them as they arrived at the church, pulling him from his musings. "How are you both this fine morning?"<p>

"Sore, Jo, sore," J.D. told him, wrinkling his nose and reaching back to rub the seat of his trousers. "Mind if I stand up today?"

Josiah laughed. 'Fraid not, John Daniel," he told him. "The Lord requires all of us to make sacrifices, you know. This one will just have to be yours."

JD sighed. "I was afraid of that," he muttered, and then headed inside. "Lord's askin' an awful lot, though."

"You will simply have to bear it," Josiah told him, patting him on the back.

"Yes Sir," JD sighed. "Reckon, I will."

"And how about you, young Ezra?" Josiah asked, peering down at him. "How are you?"

"I'm very well, Sir," Ezra told him, politely. "And you?"

"Just fine," Josiah replied, "and you may simply call me Josiah when we are alone, Ezra. In school, I am Mr. Sanchez...although many of the children that have known me for a while simply call me 'Brother Jo'."

"Thank you, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra told him, "but my mother raised me to be a gentleman and as such I am duty bound to refer to you as is appropriate."

Josiah nodded.

_How sad, _he thought to himself_, that this child has been robbed of his innocence almost and doesn't even know it. At least now he may have a chance at a decent childhood…  
><em>  
>"Well," he said, out loud, "come in and have a seat. You and JD are the first ones to arrive, and I was about to ring for the children, anyway."<p>

Ezra nodded, and did as he was told.

He decided to take a seat in the middle, that way he would not be right up front nor would he be at the very back—least Mr. Sanchez think him a lazy lout.

JD he noticed sat in the back, but he was certain that was so no one would notice him squirming.

Soon, the rest of the children began to pour into the room and many of them regarded him with curious expressions.

A boy about his own age, however, didn't look happy to see him. _Hmm, he may prove troublesome…  
><em>  
>"Good morning, everyone," Josiah greeted them once they had all taken their seats. "How are all my little brothers and sisters doing today?"<p>

"Fine, Brother Jo," the group answered him as one.

"Wonderful," the preacher replied, beaming at them. "I'd like to introduce you all to a new little brother who has come to join us. Ezra, will you please stand up?"

Ezra stood up, glancing around him with what he hoped was an air of indifference.

"Hello," he greeted everyone, "I am Ezra P. Standish."

"Larabee's bastard," someone, one of the boys sitting behind him he thought, muttered loudly.

This got a chuckle from everyone except JD and Ezra. Josiah scowled at the boy who'd spoken.

"Billy," their teacher replied, sternly. "Was there something you wished to share with the class?"

Ezra looked back, following the man's gaze, and found himself staring at the boy who'd given him the dirty look when he'd entered earlier.

"No, Brother Jo," the boy, Billy Travis, replied quietly.

"Then kindly remember our rule here," Josiah told him, firmly. "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied meekly. "I'm sorry, Brother Jo."

Josiah nodded.

"What are you doing back there anyway, Billy?" he asked him, curiously. "You usually sit where Ezra is sitting. I am sure he would not mind sharing. Would you, Ezra?"

Ezra would have liked to reply that he wouldn't sit near the other boy for an entire bar of gold…but that wouldn't not have been the polite thing to do._  
><em>

"No, Sir," he told the preacher/teacher. "I wouldn't mind."

He wondered if telling a lie in a church counted when the church was being used as a school…

He glanced up at the ceiling, purposefully.

No lightening bolts had descended upon his red-gold head. That had to be a good sign. Right?

"Good," Josiah said. "Billy, kindly move beside Ezra so that we may begin the lesson."

Billy Travis nodded and did as he was told. He didn't look happy about it, though.

Ezra didn't particular look pleased, either, but he still moved over so that the other boy could sit beside him.

"Now," Josiah said, once the boys were situated, "let's begin where we left off yesterday..."

The rest of the morning passed quickly, through Reading and Arithmetic—both of which Ezra was already well ahead of most of the children in the school.

Though Josiah seemed impressed with his knowledge, the other children did not.

_Wonderful, _he thought wearily to himself_, they probably think I am trying to play teacher's pet or some such stupidity…  
><em>  
>Recess proved to be a lonely experience as all the other children rushed off to play childish games such as baseball.<p>

Ezra sat on his own, fiddling with his deck of cards.

JD had offered to sit with him, but it was quite obvious the older boy wanted to play baseball as well so he had insisted he would be all right.

"Hey, you," the boy he'd been forced to sit by all moring, Billy Travis, spoke up approaching him.

"Can I do something for you?" he asked him, not bothering to look up from his deck of cards.

"You talk weird," Billy told him, "and we don't like you kissin' up to Brother Jo and makin' us look bad…"

Ezra rolled his eyes at this.

"I can assure you it was not my intention to 'kiss up' to him as you put it," he told him. "My mother insisted I be highly educated, that is all."

"Can't you talk normal?" Billy asked him, curiously. "Are you really Chris' kid?"

Ezra nodded. "That is what I have been told, yes," he told him, calmly.

Billy snorted. "Guess you _are _a bastard, then," he said, sneeringly.

"I am no such thing," he growled back, "and I do not appreciate being called such!"

Billy grinned. He'd obviously hit a nerve and he knew it.

"You like fiddlin' with them cards, don'tcha?" he asked, nodding to the deck Ezra held. "Heard you whipped a bunch of grownups in poker at the saloon last night, but I don't believe it."

Ezra narrowed his eyes. "Oh, really?" he asked, grinning mischievously. "Would you like to play and find out?"

Billy nodded. "Sure," he said, eagerly. "What're we playin'?"

"That depends," Ezra told him, smirking. "What do you have to bet?"

He remembered what Chris had said the night before about not gambling, but that had been in the saloon.

And he was _not_ at the saloon now._  
><em>  
>As the other boy sat down, and he began to shuffle the deck, he smiled.<p>

This was going to be fun.

TBC


	7. Aches and Pains

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 7: Aches and Pains

(Warning: spanking scene in this chapter)

Chris had a headache...in fact, he was pretty sure it was a migraine.

He and Vin had gone out to investigate missing livestock, only to discover it was the rancher's young twin sons doing the thieving, in an attempt to keep the beloved animals from being sold for meat and tanning.

He smirked. _After their pa got done tannin' their hides, _he thought to himself_, I don't think they were that concerned about the cows any more…_

After that, they had headed over to Nettie's place to help Buck put up the much needed fence around it.

They had worked hard, and were only halfway done.

_He _would have continued working, but he developed this whopper of a headache—probably from not eating anything all day, for which Nettie had scolded him—and was shooed back into town at the threat of getting a frying pan upside his rear end.

"Hey there, young'un," he greeted JD as he entered the stable to find the boy doing just as Buck had told him to.

"Hey, Chris," JD said, slinging a mess of dirty hay out the back window where the 'mess' pile was. "Where're Buck and Vin?"

"Still workin'," Chris told him, dismounting and taking off his saddle. "Where's Ezra?"

"He's over at the boardin' house," JD said. "Josiah gave 'im homework to do tonight—ta catch him up on what the rest of us are doin', I reckon…"

He nodded. "Good," he said, sighing. "Did he have a good day?"

JD shrugged. "Guess so," he said. "Some of the other kids don't like 'im none, but he didn't seem to mind…"

_Oh, _Chris thought_, I reckon I'd best go check on him anyway…_

He turned to do just that, when he found Mary Travis with her ten year old son, Billy, standing in the doorway.

"Hey there, Mary," he said, mustering up as much of a smile as he could. "How's it going, Billy?"

The boy, who normally was a real chatter box when around him, just nodded.

Mary had a frown on her face—and somethin' told him his headache was about to get worse.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, anxiously.

Mary sighed. "Billy came home from school without his father's pocket watch, Mr. Larabee," she replied, glaring down at her son. "He said your son, Ezra, has it."

Chris frowned, looking down at Billy. "That true?" he asked the boy, gently yet firmly.

"Yes, Sir," Billy answered, not meeting his eyes.

"Are you sayin' ya think Ezra stole it, Mary?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Mary told him, "but I know Billy would not have just given him the watch…it belonged to his father."

Chris sighed, rubbing his aching temples. "C'mon, then," he told them. "Let's go ask the boy."

He headed past them and toward the boarding house._  
><em>  
>They headed over to the boarding house and up to the room he shared with Ezra.<p>

He found the boy doing the sums Josiah had assigned him to do, just as JD had said.

"Ezra," he said, gaining the boy's attention, "I need to ask ya somethin'?"

Ezra looked up, saw who was with him, and frowned.

He put aside his pencil and paper, and then looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, Sir?" he asked the black clad man, curiously. "What is it?"

"Miz Travis here says you have Billy's pocket watch," Chris said, gesturing behind him to Mary. "Is that true?"

"Yes, Sir," Ezra replied, pulling out the watch.

Chris sighed, and took it from him. "Where did you get it?" he asked, firmly.

"I won it," Ezra replied, honestly. "Playing cards."

"What?" both Chris and Mary asked, each one looking at a different boy sternly.

"We played cards this afternoon," Ezra explained, calmly. "He bet the watch and lost...fair and square."

"William Orin Travis!" Mary exclaimed, disapprovingly. She was glaring down at her son, who looked at her innocently.

"It wasn't fair, Mama," Billy told her. "I don't know how to play poker! _He _knew I'd lose!"

Ezra shrugged. "You agreed to play," he told him, sneering. "I didn't force you to."

Chris sighed. "Ezra," he told him, sternly. "What did I tell yaw about gamblin'?"

"Not to do it in the saloon at night," Ezra told him. "And we weren't at the saloon, Sir, we were on the church steps."

"That's even worse," Chris said, rubbing his temples some more. _Definitely a migraine…  
><em>  
>"Billy," Mary said, shocked by what she'd just learned. "How could you bet your father's watch! You know you're not supposed to gamble!"<p>

Billy glared at Ezra. "It was _his _fault, Mama!" he growled, pointing an accusing finger at the other boy. "He tricked me!"

"I did no such thing," Ezra replied, hotly. "You accused me of lying and I proved you wrong!"

"Whoa there, son," Chris said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"_He _did not believe that I won at poker against grown men," he said, pointing at Billy, "and insisted we play cards to prove it."

"That true, Billy?" Chris asked, looking at the boy.

Billy glared at Ezra. "I didn't know we was gonna play poker," he said, lamely. "I just thought we was gonna play "Gold Fish" or somethin'!"

"You didn't specify a game," Ezra replied, shrugging, "so naturally I chose the one I am best at…"

Billy looked ready to spit nails, but before he could Chris intervened.

"You know you can't keep the watch," he told Ezra, sternly.

Ezra nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said, "but if I must return it, I expect an apology."

"What for?" Chris asked, puzzled.

"The only reason I bested him and claimed the watch was because of what _he _called me," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What did he call you?" Chris asked, wishing he could go get Nathan to give him something for this God awful headache!

"He called me a 'bastard'," Ezra replied, sadly. "More specifically he called me _your _bastard!"

Mary's eyes widened at that and she exclaimed, "William Travis!"

"But it's true, Mama," Billy stated, angrily. "He _is _a bastard! And so is his pa!"

He glared at Chris, who looked like he had been punched in the gut, but then turned and ran out of the boarding house.

Chris went to the window and saw him run for home.

"He just went home, Mary," he reassured the woman, gently. Billy had a habit of running off at times…

"Oh, Chris," Mary apologized, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what has gotten into him. I thought things were getting better, but..."

Chris snorted. "It ain't your fault, Mary," he told her, firmly, "and there's nothing wrong with Billy that a good whuppin' won't cure."

Mary shook her head. "I-I can't, Chris," she told him, sadly. "His papa always was better at that sort of thing than me…"

"That's all right," he told her, gently. "I'll take care of it."

Mary bit her lip, not sure what to do. "All right," she said, quietly.

He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," he told her, grinning. "All we got going on here is a case of the green eyed monster."

"You think he's jealous of Ezra?" Mary asked, understanding dawning in her eyes.

"Yep," he said, smiling. "I'm willin' to bet (he winced slightly at his poor choice of words, given the circumstances) Billy fills I ain't gonna have any time for him anymore now that Ezra's here. Well, I'm gonna go prove him wrong...right now."

"What about me, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra asked, hesitantly. "A-Am I to be punished, as well?"

His green eyes were wide with fear—which made Chris wonder if he'd ever been whooped before.

_Probably not_, he thought with a silent snort, _knowing Maude_…

"You and me are gonna have a talk 'bout the rules again," Chris told him, "but I understand why yaw did what yaw did...and yer gonna get that apology. I promise."

With that, he strolled out of the boarding house and over toward the newspaper office. Mary and Billy lived above it.

He headed up the stairs, and headed straight for Billy's room. Without bothering to knock, he walked inside.

He found Billy on the bed, crying.

"Go 'way, Chris," the boy told him, turning to face the wall.

"I ain't gonna do that, Billy," Chris told the boy. "You and me need to talk."

The boy sat up, and scrubbed at his tears. "`Bout what?" he asked, scowling.

"About what you called Ezra," Chris told him, sitting down on the bed, "and me."

Billy glared at him. "Why'd he'd have to come here anyway," he said, sulking.

Chris raised an eyebrow at him. "He didn't get a choice," he told him, honestly. "His ma sent him here."

"I wish she hadn't," the boy replied, crossing his arms.

"Cuz you think he's gonna come between you and me?" Chris asked him, curiously.

"He's your son," Billy said, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, he is," Chris agreed, "but that don't me I can't spend a little time with you, too."

"He might not want'cha to," the boy said, sniffing.

Chris shrugged. "It ain't about what he wants," he told him, honestly. "It's about what I want and I want to spend time with both of you."

"Really?" Billy asked, hopefully. "You mean it?"

Chris nodded. "Yep," he said, then frowned, "but if I do you gotta behave yerself and mind me—jus' like yaw would yer pa."

"I will, Chris," Billy promised. "I will."

"That's good," Chris said, "but you still did a bad thing when you called me and Ezra `bastards'."

The boy bit his lip, worriedly.

"What would yer pa have done, Billy?" Chris asked him, shrewdly. "If he was here…"

Billy gulped. "Give me a whuppin'," he replied, quietly, "and make me say I'm sorry."

Chris nodded. "I thought so," he replied, quietly. "So, I reckon, that's just what I'm gonna do."

Billy's eyes widened. "Yer gonna whoop me!" he exclaimed, shocked. "Mama won't like that."

Chris nodded again.

"Yer ma's already told me I could," he told him, firmly. "I know if one if Adam had called or Ezra does call someone a "bastard" they'd get the seat of their britches blistered."

Billy gulped again, his eyes cast down. "Yes, Sir," he replied, sounding like a man about to face the noose.

Chris grinned and reached over to lift his chin up.

"This don't mean I don't care about you, Billy," he told him, "I care _a lot_. Which is why I'm gonna spank yaw."

Lifting the boy up, he placed him face down over his lap.

Raising his hand back, he brought it down sharply—enough to warm and sting, but not bruise—across his small backside.

Billy hissed as the first five smacks landed. It had been awhile since his last spanking and he'd forgotten how much it stung.

He began to sniffle as his bottom stung something fierce.

He'd known Chris had large hands, but now knew those hands were quite hard, too.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, "I'm sorry!"

Chris nodded, giving him one last smack—making it the hardest of the lot.

He then let him up off his lap.

Taking him by the shoulders, he said, "You know you owe Ezra an apology, don't you?"

The boy nodded, sniffing. "Yes, sir," he replied, rubbing at his running nose.

Chris smiled, and then pulled him into a hug. "Good boy," he said, squeezing tightly.

"I am sorry, Chris," he told him. "Ezra can keep my watch."

"No, he can't," Chris told him, firmly. "I went ahead and gave it back to yer ma. I think she'll probably hold onto it `til she thinks yer old enough to take better care of it."

Billy sighed. "That'll be forever," he said, mournfully.

Chris chuckled at that. He supposed to a child of ten, it _would_ seem like forever.

"It'll go by faster than yaw think it will," he told him, standing up. "You'll see. C'mon, let's head on back to the boarding house. You got an apology to make."

The boy nodded and followed him out.

_Hey, what do you know! My headache's gone!  
><em>  
>Too bad Billy couldn't say the same for the pain in his rear.<p>

Chris winced, remembering his childhood all too well.

He'd spent a lot of time out in the woodshed, as recalled.

TBC


	8. Renegotiation

Magnificent Seven

The Little Gambler

**Summary**: Ten year old Ezra Standish arrives in the town of Four Corners with a letter from his mother for his father, Chris Larabee.

**Author's Note: **Some of you might recognize this story from another sight, but I've also made some _minor_ changes to it. I've had this written for awhile now, but kept retweaking it. I've finally decided to post it. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

**Warning**: Spanking of Minor(s).

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun.  
>…<p>

Chapter 8: Renegotiation

Billy made his apology, to both his mother and Ezra.

"Though I still feel slighted," Ezra replied, holding out is hand, "for the sake of peace I humbly except your apology."

Billy looked a bit puzzled at the odd-turn-of-phrase, but took his hand anyway.

"Uh, thanks," he said, "I think."

Chris chuckled at that. "Trust me," he told him, ruffling his hair fondly. "You're forgiven."

"Oh, baby," Mary said, pulling her son into hug. "I love you, but if you _ever _do something this foolish again you'll be getting TWO spankings—one from Chris and one from me, and possibly even three, if your grandfather hears about it. Do you understand me?"

Billy gulped and nodded. "Yes, Mama," he said, wide-eyed. "I won't start nothin' with Ezra ever again!"

"And I'm sure Ezra won't start nothing with you," Chris said, eyeing the young Southerner out of the corner of his eye.

"Of course not, Sir," Ezra told him, smirking. "A gentleman never _starts_ anything, although we certainly do _finish _them."

Chris rolled his eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Mary grinned, and went to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Chris," she whispered in his ear. "From now on, I promise to try and be firmer with Billy."

The black-clad sheriff nodded.

"He's a good boy, Mary," he whispered back, "and I love him, too. If you ever need a hand, don't hesitate to ask. All right?"

The blonde widow smiled.

"Oh," she said, "I'm sure now that their friends you'll have your hands full keeping them out of trouble."

Chris winced at that._  
><em>  
>Mary chuckled, and then went over to Ezra.<p>

"I want to apologize too, Ezra," she told the boy. She then kissed him on the cheek.

The boy blushed bright red and gulped. "Don't fret so, Mrs. Travis," he told her. "Twas not your fault, I know."

Mary reached out and cupped his chin with one soft, smooth hand.

"You may just be what this town needs," she told him. "It could stand to have a few more gentlemen in it."

She cast a glance Chris' way, and smirked. Chris rolled his eyes at her. _  
><em>  
>After kissing him on the cheek again, she and Billy said their good-byes and headed once more for home.<p>

Chris removed his hat and sat down on the bed with a sigh.

His headache may have been gone, but for some odd reason he felt utterly exhausted.

He closed his eyes to rest them a moment.

Ezra glanced over at the black-clad man, biting his lip.

"Sir?" he asked hesitantly. "You never answer my question earlier. Am I to be punished, too?"

Chris opened his eyes and stared at the boy, puzzled.

"Why would you be punished, son?" he asked him. "You didn't do anythin' wrong that I know of...except maybe gamble on the church steps, and I reckon you'll just to have to take that one up with Him."

He pointed up toward the ceiling.

Ezra bit his lip again, and came to sit next to him.

"You mentioned before you went after Billy that we were going to talk about the rules when you returned," he reminded him, hesitantly.

Chris nodded. "Yeah, I did," he said, "and we are."

"Then I do not understand," the ten year old replied. "If I did nothing wrong, why are we to discuss the rules?"

The sheriff sighed._  
><em>  
>"Because I think I need to be a little bit clearer," he told him. "I told you before I didn't want you to gamble in the saloon anymore, and I meant that, but I reckon I need to add to that that I don't want you gamblin' period anymore."<p>

"But I enjoy playing cards," Ezra told him, "uh, Sir."

He added that last part as a reflex.

He didn't want to anger the man by seeming disrespectful, after all.

Chris nodded, and placed an arm around his small shoulders.

"I know yaw do, son," he told him, "and I ain't sayin' you can't play cards, I'm just sayin' you can't gamble anymore. After this, if you and Billy, or you and JD what to play a friendly hand of Five Card Stud, then ya can...just so long as no bettin' takes place. Understand?"

Ezra frowned. If he didn't gamble, how was he to earn money? He bit his lip, uncertainly.

"Is there no way that I may gamble, Sir?" he asked him, curiously.

"Nope," Chris told him, firmly. "I know you and me are just gettin' used to each other, son, but I don't approve of boys your age—or any age really—bettin' money. From now on, if I hear you've been doing it then you WILL be in trouble. BIG trouble, too, because you'll be breaking the rules. Understand?"

Ezra sighed, and nodded. "Yes, Sir," he told him, "I understand."

Chris patted his back, and stood up. "C'mon on, then," he said, "let's you and me go get JD and grab us some grub. The fellas are probably still out at Nettie's place fixing that fence. She'll feed 'em supper so the three of us are on our own."

Ezra nodded, and slowly got up, but then stopped when an idea occurred to him.

"Sir?" he asked, reaching out hesitantly and grasping the sheriff's sleeve.

Chris turned back around. "What is it, son?" he asked, curiously.

"It is customary, I believe," the boy told him, "for a parent to give their child a weekly or monthly sum to teach them financial responsibility, correct? At least, several of the older boys I spoke to once said that their fathers did this for them..."

"Yaw talkin' about an allowance?" Chris asked, grinning.

Ezra nodded. "Yes, Sir," he told him. "Would it be possible for you and I to have such an arrangment?"

Chris scratched his head.

"Well, I don't make that much myself," he told him, "but maybe...you do know that an allowance has to be earned, don'cha?"

"I understand it is customary for one to earn such a right, yes?" Ezra informed him. "For doing well in school, staying out of mischief, and performing such mundane labors about the home."

Chris scratched his chin, trying to decipher all that the kid had just said…

_Let me see, _he thought to himself trying to put the boy's word in laymen's terms_, that would be gettin' good grades, not causin' trouble, and doin' chores._

"I ain't worried none about the school or the mischief," Chris said, "but other than keeping this here room clean there ain't too many chores for you to do 'round here."

Ezra grinned. "Then perhaps we can renegotiate a bit?" he asked, smirking.

"Renegotiate?" Chris asked, puzzled.

"Yes, sir," the ten year old gambler replied, smiling brightly. "Perhaps instead of performing manial labor, I may earn my weekly income another way. By winning it."

"Winnin' it?" Chris asked, really perplexed now.

"You said that I could not gamble any longer," Ezra told him, "but did say I could play a friendly game of cards, correct?"

"Yeah, I did," Chris said, wonderin' where the boy was going with this.

"You also said you did not approve of boys betting money, correct?" the ten year old con artist asked next.

"Yeah," the black-clad lawman replied, hands on his hips. "Mind lettin' me know where all this is leadin' to, son?"

"Well, Sir," Ezra told him, "I propose you and I play a 'friendly' game of poker ever Friday evening. Should I win, I recieve my allowance...as I will have essentially 'earned' it."

"And if I win?" Chris asked, smirking. He wasn't that bad at poker himself, after all.

"Well," Ezra said, thinking, "I..." He stopped. He hadn't thought about if he lost. He wasn't counting on losing, after all.

Chris had to hand it to Maude—she had certainly taught her boy well.

No wonder he could beat the pants off people in cards.

Oddly enough, he felt a strong sure of paternal pride in the boy's use of such an obvious con tactic.

He reached out a hand.

"How about if I win," he told him, "you still get your allowance...only not all of it for that week. Let's say, you'll only get half of it. Then the next week, you'll have the chance to win...uh, 'earn'...that half PLUS the full amount for that week. How about it?"

Ezra smiled. This was perfect!

This would allow him to keep up his card playing skills, without breaking the new rules set for him, and allow him to spend time with his father as well.

"Then, Mr. Larabee," he told him, "we have an agreement." They shook hands on it.

Chris chuckled, and cupped the boy on the chin.

"Good," he said, but then gave him a stern look, "but if I hear you bettin' any of the money you 'earn' then not only will you not be gettin' it that week but you'll also earn a trip over my knee to boot. Understand?"

There, that was putting it plain and straight.

Ezra gulped. He had not doubt the man would do just that.

"Yes, Sir," he told him, "and I promise. Any card playing done between anyone else but you and I will be of the strictly 'friendly' variety."

Chris nodded at the boy. "All right, son," he said, smiling. "Now, if we're done renegociatin', let's head over and get JD. I don't know 'bout you but I'm starvin'!"

Ezra smiled. "I could do with a bite to eat myself, sir," he told him. "It seems renegotiation works up an appetite."

Chris laughed and shook his head as they made their way down the stairs of the boarding house._  
><em>  
>He reached over and pulled the boy closer to his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.<p>

He was a little surprised when Ezra leaned his head against his side.

He smiled down at the boy, and Ezra smiled back up at him.

At that moment, there was no doubt in Chris Larabee's mind.

Ezra was his, and no one was ever going to take his boy away from him again.

Together, father and son walked on.

For the moment, both were completely and utterly content.

The End.


End file.
